Music blared from the speakers on one side of the stage. Girls and boys danced in the middle of the confetti-strewn dance floor. Fairy lights hung from the gym’s ceiling rafters. On the bleachers, girls either took pictures of themselves or retouched their make-ups. Every once in a while, you’d see a couple or two snogging or arguing about whether they should be on the dance floor or not. Typical prom night. I stood at the back of the crowd, arms across my chest.
The party adrenaline was intoxicating.
I looked around the crowded room, searching for one face I hoped to see. The dancing bodies and the fairy lights blurred my vision a bit. Without any luck of seeing his face, I walked out of the gym.
I walked through the dark hallways lit only by the moonlight coming in through the glass windows, the sound of my heels against the tiled floor echoing off the walls.
My whole high school life flashed in front of my eyes: my first day of school, the tests I failed to nail, the non-sense talks I’ve had with my friends whenever there’s free time, late nights doing schoolwork, the issues we’ve had with almost every teacher, truth or dares, project-occupied weekends. Him. This might be the last time I’ll ever walk in this hallway.
I went out into the field and there standing under the moonlight was Sawyer Finch in his black tuxedo and slacks. He was looking up at the star-scattered sky.
“You’re missing the night’s highlights, Sawyer Finch,” I said as I walked up to him. He was still looking up.
“What highlight? The partying? Partying really isn’t making memories. It just consumes all your energy, leaving you none to make memorable stuff.”
“Stuff like standing under the moonlit sky and staring at a sky full of stars?”
“Yeah. At least, in the future, when they ask me what I remember during prom night, I can say that I stood on the field and talked to Amber Dwyne about the silly things in life. That is quite more memorable than saying I danced on the dance floor during prom,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“Okay, you’re being weird. I’m gonna miss you so much, my lanky boy.”
This time, he looked at me and smiled. “Your? Your lanky boy?”
“I didn’t mean—“
He cut me off by grabbing my wrist and dragging me into the middle of the field. The cold wind blew against our direction, making my hair escape from its pins. Despite the cold, his hand was warm.
We stopped, my heart racing, my cheeks burning, my breath catching.
For the first time in six years, he held my hands. He intertwined my cold fingers with his warm ones and looked at me, his eyes smiling.
“This was what I meant about this being more memorable than partying. Lanky boy is such a dumb nickname for me, though. But, I’m yours. I’m yours, Amber Dwyne. Now, may I at least have this dance?”
I couldn’t say anything, so I just nodded and wrapped my arms around his neck. He was still smiling like a madman, and so was I.
Never have I thought that my prom night would go like this.
For what seemed like hours, we danced under the silent sky and talked about the silly things in life with the moon and the stars as witnesses.